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Myrika Tears · 01-21-2012, 07:56 AM

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Turning conversation toward Inferni history so this counts for my second co-rank thread, if you don't mind? >_> There are few others Myri can glean Inferni history from~ Also, controlling kae on your part, fine!

Myrika is by Bobbi!

Although Myrika could not say why, she also thought settling quite so close to one another a foolish decision. She was glad long miles separated Inferni from its closest neighbors, and the rust-hued coyote preferred to avoid most of these neighbors, in any case. She knew nothing of their westerly neighbors and only knew of Ichika what she'd seen on her visit. Anathema was a mystery to her beyond its name, and the coyote was gladdened immensely by her Aquila's words.

Stupid wolves, Kaena grumbled, declaring this with surprising hostility, at least to Myrika. She did not understand her grandmother's apparent hatred for wolf-kind; after all, hadn't the scarred woman bore children to a wolf -- twice, in fact? Ezekiel, coyote as he was, was descended of this union, and Myrika could see the hint of wolfishness in her cousin, as much as it shone in her own ungainly size and largeness. Myrika thought her size was especially apparent when compared to more coyote-blooded individuals of her lineage, and she instinctively hunkered in the saddle, though the Consul was unaware she did such a thing. All of them fell silent following this comment, and shortly thereafter, Ezekiel left Kaena and Myrika by their lonesome. The women spoke in low voices while the Aquila was away -- Kaena's a raspy whisper, Myrika's a lighter and more prettily toned murmur.

I hope we can cross the river this time. I want to see Inferni's old coast, our old beach, the elder, scarred canine said, the sable tip of her tail wavering in excitement at the thought. Everything about the ancient canine seemed animated in that moment, and Myrika thought the years had slid from her face rather abruptly. For her part, the turquoise-eyed woman smiled broadly and nodded, hopeful to see such a thing herself. It was good for the historian to see such things, the rusty-hued woman thought.

I think we will, Myrika said, pointing to the bird. He has good eyes. With the compliment, Ibsen cocked his head and would have grinned, had he the lips to do so. Myrika saw no harm in giving the raven a little added encouragement with praise. Whether or not such a tactic proved effective was to be seen, of course. Ezekiel returned rather promptly and spoke, and Myrika nodded, making no reply. Kaena did so for her, barking a sharp laugh as she did so. Let's move it, then, the old woman said, her animation and vigor still apparent.

The rusty-hued woman said nothing as they passed close to the wolves' land, and her companions were content to do the same. The horses made no noises, and even the wind seemed to have died -- it was as if this world was cut off from the rest of it, sound and sight alike. The sharp rise of land on either side of them caught Myrika's attention, and she twisted her head this way and that, looking sometimes to the ridges of rocky earth. Sometimes her gaze lifted to the faintly overcast sky, patches of gray-blue showing between the clouds. Though the clouds threatened, Myrika and Ezekiel both seemed confident the rain and snow would not come.

The rest of the world again became apparent as the pass widened, and Myrika looked forward eagerly. She wanted to run their horses more than anything, but she doubted Kaena could sustain such a pace in the saddle, and she was not foolish enough to risk the old woman over such childish whims. Instead, she gave Eira a little leeway, allowing the roan to pull beside Viggo as soon as there was room. Eira greeted the stallion with a nudge of her nose and a quiet neighing noise. Come spring, Eira would foal what was likely Viggo's get -- the mare's affection seemed to confirm this notion to Myrika, and she thought happily of the young foals and fillies that would occupy her days. Spring's arrival could not come soon enough.

Would you speak of the old Inferni? she asked. Both of you, the russet woman added, turning her head back toward Kaena. Soon enough, they could ride side by side again, and conversation would become easier. I want to know it all, the woman said, almost shyly. Knowledge was a passionate pursuit of the rust-tinged woman, and this particular subject interested her greatly. It did, after all, concern part of her own heritage, too.

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